


And the Golden Flowers Bloomed

by JulieTulips



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dead kids, Gen, Sadness, poetic-ish style?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:05:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieTulips/pseuds/JulieTulips
Summary: One by one they passed us by, and one by one they fell. Whether we were justified, only time will tell. We slaughtered with no mercy, their magic formed the key - the seven human children whose deaths have set us free.





	And the Golden Flowers Bloomed

Seven. Seven human souls and King Asgore will become a god.  
Zero. That’s how many we have collected thus far.  
The throne room is waiting to receive its visitors.  
So beloved. So welcome.  
The coffins of freedom are waiting.

The delicate fibres of time stretched up and collapsed, catching the little ones into a gentle cradle of flowers as they fall. Golden flowers to save them atop of the buried body of she who had once been the hope for us all. A terrible whirlwind of colour swept its way through the throne room. A note of laughter as a ballerina twirled. A punch to the wall from a warrior boy. The scribbling sound of a notebook against paper. Yet slowly, they too, turned to dust.

A wisp of cyan blue, wafting into the ruins. Little feet, tiptoeing slowly and patiently through endless puzzles. The puzzles were comforting, and the piles of leaves crunched merrily. It was alright. This was easy. It was a child’s game. A child’s game of footsteps and handshakes, of standing in the shade and wondering if another leaf would ever glow on the black tree, another purple leaf that would fall to the ground. But then there was no more wonder. There was only a scream and the blind stab of a trident. A faded ribbon lying forgotten. A toy knife, abandoned. For this was no more child’s play, for no child could play on a ground that soaked up the blood while the timid fluttering blue heart was encased in glass.

The leaves turned red that day.

A flash of boldness, of fiery courage leaving its streak across the cavern floor. He knew he would make it out. He fought with every last bit of his heart. Yet the cold of Snowdin killed the bright orange flame and brought it, at last, to a standstill. And as the second clasp of smoke was sealed in its new home, the hand poked out from the ice, still wearing a glove brave enough to slay its enemies.

An elegant, twirling dance. A blue rain, touching the souls and hearts of monsters. A pointe walk through the ruins, her tutu trailing in the breeze. A pirouette through the ice and snow. But as she made her final leap through the falling water, the soul was pulled to the ground as Aaron’s muscles pounded from somewhere far above. The thin, fluttering blue soul twirled gently into its casing for one final dance. The water droplets turned pink as they streamed to the centre of the echo flowers. One flower was screaming.

His glasses clattered to the floor as the metal spikes of the murderous trident struck his body. A battle, he found, could not be won by books and cleverness. In fact, no battle could be won at all. If the enemy lay dead at your feet, it was not, to him, a victory. The purple heart held strong to its host, yet abandoned, at last, the comforting home it had known. The notebook lay at the boy’s side, torn in half by the slash that ended him. “Run,” said the last entry. “Run for your life.”

The kind handshake of a baker boy. The scientist walked slowly towards the child, the flames of lava gushing on either side of the narrow walkway as the vents sang a song of farewell. The black cloak trailed along the burning sand as the boy extended a greeting of friendship. The man who spoke in hands did not do long business. A quick burst of magic, and the ground erupted in a stream of liquid red fireworks. A forgotten pan, burnt with magic, and an apron, stained with blood. A little green heart, crammed onto a shelf as the golden flowers bloomed.

A young royal guard’s first challenge. Gunshots, hitting trash cans and cavern walls. The stones twinkled, pretending to be stars above. The echo flowers wound themselves into the ruffle skirt as a little blonde girl lifted a gun against the underworld’s heroine. A blind shot in the dark of the cavern, and a scream. Fresh blood seeping into iridescent scales. For the child wanted nothing but justice, and so justice was served. The glowing spear was thrust through the girl’s neck, the water masking the shout. And as Undyne knelt before the king, laying before him on the flowered her body and offering the flittering ball of yellow light, one lonely echo flower’s voice could still be heard.

“This is a beautiful place,” Her voice reflected off the petals. “I wish I could stay here forever.”


End file.
